


Left Behind

by Marazura



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Action, Adventure, Cuba, Havana, Hurt/Comfort, Multiple Languages, Slight PharahxMercy, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-19 06:55:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22540351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marazura/pseuds/Marazura
Summary: The mission was simple. Escort the Person-of-Interest to the pickup location and return back to the base as swift as possible. Aerial Strike Team Fareeha "Pharah" Amari and Angela "Mercy" Ziegler have been assigned together in the post-Recall mission and are only just now seeing each other for the first time in many years. This should have been simple and smooth, but the mission turned to be anything but that, and the two were left behind in Havana, Cuba. It's a race against time for the two to escape, as Overwatch was not the only one to notice them missing.
Kudos: 5





	Left Behind

A basic escort mission, that was what they were told in the debriefing for the day’s dispatch. It had to be quick and efficient, which was simple enough for any Overwatch agent as the escort was only one among many since coming out from the underground, since answering to Winston’s transmission only a few months prior.

The reconstruction of the organization was complicated; however, the current objective was not. At eighteen-hundred hours, an individual of importance was to be retrieved from Havana, Cuba, a bustling Caribbean metropolis and the nation’s cultural capital, but the exact details were unknown. Whatever the case, Overwatch was charged with ensuring the person of interest was retrieved from the Taller de Sebastián and delivered to an aircraft that would be awaiting pickup nearby Havana’s Sea Fort.

For any regular to La Habana, the streets were no busier than usual. After all, with a population of over two million in the city, and plenty of places for tourists to linger about, one would have to be actively trying to stand out to be noticed. Cuba’s attractions have brought new cultures into its capital, thusly the changing of times has had a unique impact on the city of making it the central hub of both the old and the new.

Yet hiding in plain daylight of Havana’s city streets were undercover Overwatch agents awaiting further orders from their ground commander sent to retrieve their person of interest. Some were dressed in civilian clothes, while others were hiding in uniform among the shadows cast by the remaining sun against the vibrant architecture and structures of local apartments and shops. The goal was to ensure that there was not an inch of ground or sky that was not being carefully monitored by Overwatch. With a dozen threats to calculate for, including the likelihood of Talon’s appearance given their influence in the local area, everyone was on high alert for anything and everything.

“Pharah, status report,” spoke a male voice coming from a shared communications radio on Overwatch’s aerial strike team.

A tanned Arab woman dressed in a blue and gold armor known famously as the Raptora Mark VI and bearing a rocket launcher at her side responded in her Egyptian accent, “All clear, Commander.”

“Good,” he replied. “POI will be inbound ETA five minutes. Stand by.”

“Roger. POI inbound, ETA five minutes,” she answered, reading back her instructions. The Egyptian looked back to her partner watching the opposite side of the building they were kneeling atop and spoke, “Dr. Ziegler, did you catch that?”

“ _Verstanden_ ,” the blonde-haired woman stated with a nod, “and Pharah, I am part of Overwatch again. For the sake of our mission, call me Mercy.”

“Sorry, I wasn’t sure whether you were reinstated or not,” she replied genuinely.

“Neither was I until a few days ago,” her partner said plainly.

There was no doubt much had changed between the two women since they had last seen one another. After all, it had been over ten years, and they hadn’t even been given the time to get to know each other again as Pharah had only been with them a short few weeks. Additionally, while Pharah was an Overwatch agent officially, she still maintained her dual loyalties to Helix Security International when they called upon her, which meant she was always moving from one duty to the next.

Mercy glanced down at her watch. Three minutes… then two… then one. Somewhere in the distance, a clock tower began to ring signaling the top of the hour, exactly six o’clock in the evening. While an ordinary sound to bystanders below the rooftop, to the organization’s medic it sent a shiver down her spine, as if she were anticipating an unknown danger.

“There’s our target,” Pharah whispered quietly as an old model of a burgundy pick-up truck advertised belonging to Don Rumbotico’s distillery trickled through the main street. They were certainly well concealed as the truck beds were carrying a couple of wooden barrels tied down by an aging tarp. There was no passenger in the vehicle meaning their POI was hiding likely with another agent beneath the cover.

Pharah turned her head sharply to watch a series of moving shadows down a nearby alleyway. While she suspected merely a drunken scuffle of some strangers, there was suddenly a sound of gunshot and screaming out of view.

“Enemy sighted!” shouted a male voice across their communications. “Watch your back, and keep that payload moving!”

As Mercy glanced down to the street about sixty-five feet below them, the bullets of Talon and Overwatch agents began to fly as civilians fled from the fray. “I’m going to the ground,” she stated, as if without a doubt.

The armored female nodded and responded, “I will take to the skies and clear the way for them to keep moving. Listen for my orders should we need to move.” With her rocket launcher in her grasp, she kicked off the ground and lifted off with jets blazing behind her.

As for the doctor, she glided down into the alleyway with the white-and-gold wings attached to her Valkyrie armor and touched down with ease. The stench of fear and panic made her wince, a reflex she had seemingly adopted since the devastation left by Talon’s attack on Cairo where the doctor had formerly stationed herself prior to the recall.

Mercy raced to the end of the alley where she pressed her back tightly against the cyan walls of the building to her right, peering out only after the whizzing of bullets racing passed paused to focus attention elsewhere. From which side they came from was irrelevant, as her primary concern was for those injured among the firefight, but the debris in the air from a combination of smoke bombs and the damaged surroundings made it nearly impossible to see.

The suit’s scanning equipment came to life in front of the doctor’s eyes, lighting up life signs in the street, warning of severe injuries being taken by Overwatch’s agents. One voice called out from the bustling noise to Mercy.

“Angela!” the female voice shouted. “Over here!”

She could hardly recognize the voice above the sounds ringing in her ears but she knew it came from one of their own and raced over to it with her wings guiding her through the smoke, an arm covering her nose and mouth to prevent her from suffocating from it. There was only a moment between the shots being fired from her distant right, which was where Talon’s forces originated. She immediately duck and covered behind a vehicle that had been abandoned when suddenly glass shattered overhead, a bullet piercing the window and narrowly missing the top of her head by mere inches. A strong arm pulled her down into the concrete as a vibrant blue shield with silver and gold decorations appeared, guarding them from further glass shattering overtop of them.

As Mercy glanced back up and pushed herself from the ground, she looked to the figure that had covered her from the fire and realized it was Brigitte Lindholm, a familiar comrade and close friend.

“Brigitte!” she stated in surprise. “I didn’t realize it was you -- You have my thanks, truly.” As she glanced up and down the Swedish brunette, her armor had certainly taken a share of hits, but her scans warned of the female engineer having sustained injuries that were clearly not immediately visible. “Brigitte, you’re--”

“Yes, Angela, I know.” The woman winced in pain and dropped her shield to put her back against the metal of the abandoned vehicle. She removed a piece of her armor on the upper half of her right arm, exposing a reddened section of leather that was torn and shredded from the impact of a bullet wound, and then motioned to a section on her left leg where she had been grazed in an effort for one enemy to shoot around her shield.

Immediately, Mercy picked her caduceus staff from the ground and directed a beam of golden light to Brigitte. “Let me get you patched up,” she said. “I can’t remove the bullet in your arm -- You need medical attention that I can’t give you right now. It can at least stop the bleeding temporarily, but you need to get out of here, Brigitte.”

Before the brunette could object, a voice returned on their communications device. “Mercy, what’s your status?”

She placed a hand to her other ear so she could hear more clearly. “Jack, they’re taking heavy casualties down here. We _must_ evacuate everyone immediately.”

“We have the POI arriving at the final destination--” Suddenly, the sound of two different sets of gunfire rang through the channel before being muted by the outgoing communication.

Brigitte and Mercy exchanged concerned glances before yet another voice rang through to the doctor. “Mercy,” spoke an arab accent, “what’s your status? You have heavy fire around you.”

“I’m fine,” she responded, “but there are others down here that need immediate medical attention.”

“I overheard you were with Brigitte. Tell her to evacuate to the airship and give the commander cover. I need you -- My sensors are going in the red. They’ve planted turrets to keep me from getting in close to provide backup aid.”

The doctor grew frustrated, desperately wanting to protect as many of her comrades as she could. A ring chimed in her ear as an icon appeared on her sensors. “My Valkyrie is ready.” She looked to Brigitte, “Get back to the airship. We’ll clear a path for you. They’ll be calling for evacuation shortly.”

She nodded and said quietly and quickly for the blonde to hear, “Be careful out there, Angela.”

With a returned nod, the wings of the Valkyrie suit flashed a bright gold and with a firm shout, the woman called out, “ _Helden sterben nicht!_ ” She bolted straight up into the air, above the smoke and crowds of chaos, and spotted Pharah in the distance several dozen feet in the air firing rockets to blast away turrets that had been planted to keep the security captain from getting close to the battle below. She flew to her, narrowly dodging shots aimed at her from the turrets, and took her place behind Pharah.

A golden glow emitted from her staff and surrounded the Raptora, slowly repairing some of the damage taken to the suit.

“Thanks,” stated Pharah with an audible sigh of relief as the internal alarm of her suit stopped its constant beeping. It was a close call as she wasn’t sure how much longer her propulsion systems could continue sustaining damage before the suit ultimately shut down.

A few blasts of her rockets later, the commander returned onto her earpiece. “All agents be advised: Our POI has been loaded and we’re evacuating immediately! We’re leaving in exactly five minutes. Tracer’s advising that our ship’s not capable of taking much more damage -- otherwise, we might not make it out of here at all.”

Another arab voice, albeit more stern than Pharah’s, responded, “Jack, we have a sniper and our people can’t leave cover without their damn heads being blown to bits.”

Immediately interrupting was Pharah, responding, “Then let me clear the area. It will provide enough cover for Overwatch to retreat, and Talon will be forced to back off.”

“Wait! You should know--” Ana shouted.

“Make it happen, Pharah!” Jack shouted over her, interrupting her radio.

She responded in acknowledgement, having barely heard her own mother’s transmission before the commander’s.

Pharah looked back to Mercy. “My rocket systems are ready for a full frontal assault. I trust you have my back.” The doctor simply nodded in response, and then they jetted into the center skies. Pharah shouted a warning below, “Rocket barrage incoming!” as the Raptora was engulfed by a cerulean blue aura. Multiple compartments throughout the suit opened and revealed hidden rockets, all of them unleashing in a rapid fury into the raging plumes of smoke below. The shouts of panic from Talon agents as they were blasted backwards filled the air.

Yet before the two could take another breath, a shot was fired at the pair from a distant sniper, missing Pharah’s head only because her jets were beginning to falter from excessive fuel usage, but instead pierced the left shoulder of her cautious medic.

“ _Scheisse!_ ” the doctor shouted in pain. She nearly dropped her staff in an effort to grab at the fresh injury in agony.

“Mercy!” Pharah shouted. While her expression was not shown, there was an audible sound of immediate concern. She grabbed the doctor’s arm to bring her over to the nearest rooftop for cover from the distant sniper. 

Just inches from the edge as a counter shot in the distance was fired, no doubt in Pharah’s mind from her own mother that likely just witnessed the near-fatality, an unseen voice called out in a foreign language to both of their ears, “ _Apagando las luces!_ ”

Neither of the women knew what it meant, but suddenly the outcome was immediately known. Whatever had happened, a charge of violet energy entered both the Raptora and Valkyrie suits like some unknown technical overload.

Pharah glanced around in a panic as the visor warned of the Raptora’s systems going offline. As she looked back to Mercy, her Valkyrie’s flight began to fail. There was no gliding; there was only falling. The Raptora’s jets then shut off and in a split second decision the blue-suited agent dove straight for Mercy, grabbing the vulnerable woman into her armored arms, then crashing from the rooftop into the brick pathway of the ground, crushing anything beneath them before landing in a crumpled heap.


End file.
